


you're still my favourite

by syncxpate (bluememory)



Category: SHINee
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background!ontae, Cheating, GIRLee in here somewhere too, M/M, Minho isn't very nice, POV Alternating, Red String of Fate, Soulmates, but none of the characters are evil i guess lol, jongkey endgame, mentions of Jonghyun/other character, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29129430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluememory/pseuds/syncxpate
Summary: They move in together when Kibum is 23 and Jonghyun is 24; combining their savings to rent a small apartment on the fringes of the city centre.That's when they meet Minho.Minho, their neighbour; Minho, an assistant soccer coach at the same school Kibum’s mother is at; Minho who has a red string on the left hand of his pinkie finger that leads directly to the pinkie finger of Kibum’s right hand.Minho, who is Kibum’s soulmate.
Relationships: Choi Minho/Kim Kibum | Key, Kim Jonghyun/Kim Kibum | Key
Comments: 15
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so. i deleted this fic initially in a mental health exercise and never thought i would post this again, but i was dealing with writer's block and just opened this document out of a weird sense of nostalgia and ended up editing it. so it's here. in case anyone wants to read it i guess?
> 
> If you've seen this before, there are some differences. im not sure if its better, but i do prefer this reworked version heh

Jonghyun is five and he thinks the world is simple.

“m gonna be Bummie’s soulmate!” He declares, marching up to his mother, Kibum toddling close behind. They have a clumsily-tied red strand of wool between their wrists. Jonghyun’s mother laughs gently when Jonghyun repeats the words, Kibum nodding in determined agreement. She ruffles her son’s hair and hums, non-committal. Jonghyun reaches over to grab ahold of Kibum’s chubby fingers. He doesn’t know much but what he does know is he wants to be with Bummie forever.

Neither child notices the bemused look their mothers share.

⁂

Jonghyun is nine and Kibum is still his best friend. “My bestest friend!” He exclaims sometimes, eyes round and bright. And Kibum will blush as their other friends laugh, but won’t deny it.

They’ve given up wool strings around their wrists for linking their pinkie fingers, like a promise. It might mean _you are mine, I am yours_. But at eight and nine, they don’t really understand the weight of those words.

At nine, Jonghyun wants to be a basketball star, even if his teacher laughs and says he’s a bit too short. When asked, Kibum will say he wants to be a model, like the pretty ones on television. “bummie is the prettiest,” Jonghyun will assert and pat Kibum’s chubby cheeks with gentle hands, eyes just as soft.

They still believe they’ll be together forever.

⁂

At 13, Jonghyun finds a girlfriend. Well, sort of. They get ice cream together after school and eat together at lunch and sometimes he tugs on her ponytail and kisses her cheek. And when there’s a break between classes, he’ll hold her hand and walk around the school.

He still spends most weekends with Kibum, watching movies and playing video games, sometimes dreaming about the future. Jonghyun likes to ramble about living together in a big house with puppies and a huge television.

When Kibum asks about his girlfriend, he shrugs. “i guess she could stay too, if she wants.”

Kibum is still the most important, Jonghyun decides.

⁂

When Jonghyun is 15, Kibum shyly introduces a boyfriend to him; one of those boys who likes to crowd around him during breaks. And Jonghyun finds, with a jerk of shock, that he doesn't like that at all. Kibum is _his_ , he thinks, hands clenching into fists.

The sharp frisson of envy that slides down his spine is a new emotion, an ugly one, one he tries hard to swallow down. He doesn't want to make Kibum sad, doesn't want to taint their friendship. So Jonghyun smiles at the boyfriend and shakes his hand, then promptly forgets his name.

Back at home after school, he stares up at the ceiling and wonders why the feeling has turned into pain. Pain that is still thrumming through his veins. Kibum has always been his, a fact of life he always believed in. But right now, he isn't, not really.

_Hey, you okay?_

_I’m fine._

_You know you’re still my favourite right?_

Jonghyun grips his phone tight. He hopes it stays true.

When Kibum breaks up with the boy seven months later, Jonghyun holds him as he sniffles and tries not to sigh too heavily in relief.

⁂

At 18, the red strings of the world become visible. Your own forming around your little finger, other people's tangling into knots and bows next to you. Seeing becomes messy and distracting, red that crisscrosses in front of your face, flashes of red in peripheral vision. You learn to ignore it.

Some people want to follow the thread to find their fated one, most people rarely do. But Jonghyun thinks he might already know who's at the end of his. At least...he hopes he does.

At midnight on his 18th birthday, he’s with Kibum in a quiet little park near their home, scatterings of food on a picnic mat between them. When the wavering thread solidifies around his little finger, he glances eagerly over at Kibum’s hand. He's so sure. But it's with a soft dawning horror that he realises they do not share a thread; Kibum’s string stretches away in an opposite direction and Jonghyun’s disappears somewhere into the tangle beside them.

“Happy birthday, Jjong,” Kibum whispers from beside him, placing his hand over Jonghyun’s. The hand with the string in the wrong direction.

Jonghyun is 18 and he thinks for the first time, he knows what it’s like for his heart to break. The tears come unbidden, welling up in his eyes. He understands why his mother only nods when he talks about being soulmates with Kibum, understands why their older friend Jinki glances at their intertwined hands and back at Jonghyun with concern sometimes.

Maybe Jonghyun had put too much hope on this fate. But he had been so sure. There is a beauty in the validation of the string, like sliding softly into destiny’s plans, the emotions in his heart backed up by the shape of his soul.

Kibum runs his thumbs under Jonghyun’s eyes, catching the unshed tears. “why are you crying?” He whispers.

“I don’t know,” Jonghyun whispers back. “I feel like i lost something today.”

He answers Kibum’s quizzical smile with a teary grin. “I feel like I lost you.”

“But i’m right here.” Kibum squeezes Jonghyun’s hand, like he’s trying to prove it.

“We’re not soulmates, bummie,” Jonghyun says, sounding desperate and sad.

Kibum’s laugh is soft and surprising. “I know,” he says, gentle and so tender. “Jinki told me once. But, does it really matter?” He raises his hand to cradle Jonghyun’s cheek and his eyes are bright.

“You’re still my favourite.”

Jonghyun has so many words he wants to say, about souls that fit wrong, about stealing away what’s supposed to be meant, and ruining the future. But Kibum is leaning forward and brushing their mouths together and maybe, just maybe, Kibum is right. Maybe it really doesn’t matter at all.

He lets his eyes flutter close and his world narrow to just Kibum.

Jonghyun is 18 and so happy.

⁂

They move in together when Kibum is 23 and Jonghyun is 24; combining their savings to rent a small apartment on the fringes of the city centre.

Too young, their parents say. But Jonghyun and Kibum know they're sure.

The first day after moving in is when they meet Minho.

Minho, their neighbour; Minho, an assistant soccer coach at the same school Kibum’s mother is at; Minho who has a red string on the left hand of his pinkie finger that leads directly to the pinkie finger of Kibum’s right hand.

Minho, who is Kibum’s soulmate.

⁂

“You're soulmates,” Jonghyun observes quietly, when their neighbour opens the door. The string between their fingers seems to glow, seems to mock him.

Kibum raises his eyebrows and glances over at the boy at the door curiously, gaze sweeping up and down like he can’t help himself.

“Hi,” he says finally, after a sharp shake of his head. “I’m Kibum, this is Jonghyun. We’re your new neighbours.”

The boy at the door smiles a long slow smile, gaze pinned only to Kibum. He reaches out to grip Kibum’s hand and there’s an undeniable spark that flares between them. “Minho,” he replies, “nice to meet you.”

Jonghyun thinks maybe the emotion churning in his stomach is fear.

⁂

“He’s kinda hot, isn’t he?” Kibum remarks later.

“Who?” Jonghyun asks, preoccupied with an article he’s writing.

“My soulmate.”

Kibum’s voice is casual and almost disinterested, like they’re just discussing a celebrity on television. But Jonghyun feels anxiety leap up his spine anyway.

“Is he?”

“You don’t think so?”

Jonghyun does actually. Minho is tall and muscled, broad shoulders tapering to slim waist, flat stomach, nice arms, and a face shaped in a way that could conceivably be found on magazine covers. When Kibum had stood next to him, with his angular frame and distinctive eyes, they looked compatible and striking, and Jonghyun is sorry he’s shorter and plainer and soft.

“Does it matter what i think?” It’s revealing and sharp but he can’t take it back now.

There’s a pause after his answer, and then a gentle hand curls around his shoulders. He looks up to Kibum gazing at him with impossible tenderness. “You’re scared,” Kibum says quietly. He can read Jonghyun a little too well.

Jonghyun wants to shrug Kibum off, wants to deny it. Wants many things, but he doesn’t say anything at all.

“You’re always my favourite,” Kibum whispers and when he leans down to kiss him, Jonghyun wants to believe those words.

⁂

Minho and Kibum get close. Maybe it’s the string, maybe it’s that the edges of their souls fit perfectly, maybe it's just the way their personalities mix. Kibum can confide in Minho, and Minho knows how to listen. They have the same kind of humour, even if their interests diverge.

“Minho makes sports actually sound fun,” Kibum tells Jonghyun, and Jonghyun prides himself on the fact that his smile is only slightly strained.

Minho becomes part of their lives, sort of. Even if his involvement with Jonghyun is only because Kibum invites him over sometimes. Minho likes Kibum, looks at him like he hung the moon, gravitates to him like earth to the sun, always wants his attention. Kibum calls him a needy child, with affection, and Minho laughs obligingly. But sometimes when Kibum leans over to kiss Jonghyun, he flinches like the sight burns.

“He likes you,” Jonghyun says one night, as Kibum is choosing clothes for work the next day.

Kibum shrugs. “I know,” he says, nonchalant and dismissive. “But I’m with you, so he can take his feelings someplace else. I don't want them.”

Jonghyun thinks he should be pleased, because Kibum sounds sure, like always. But insecurity is a deep pit dug into his chest by now. “Would you…consider if i wasn’t around?” _Would you consider even if I am?_

“Probably,” Kibum says, without hesitation, always so honest. “We get along. But that doesn’t matter, does it? I have you. I want _you_.”

Jonghyun grins back when Kibum smiles at him, but he wonders if maybe he’s merely temporarily delaying fate.

⁂

Jonghyun is 25 when he finds out what it really means to have a broken heart.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, he’s early home. A successful launch event turning the general manager of the little publication company he works at magnanimous for once. He’s looking forward to surprising Kibum, because Tuesdays are Kibum’s day off from the salon he works at.

As Jonghyun draws near the door, he hears murmurs in voices he recognises, Taemin and Kibum talking softly. Taemin is Jinki's long-time partner and by extension has become a good friend. Kibum in particular had taken to him easily after Jinki had introduced them, forging a quick, easy bond. Sometimes Jonghyun thinks it amusing that the shy little boy Jonghyun had to lead around has become the one who navigates the perils of socialising more adeptly, Jonghyun preferring solitude and quiet.

“Tae…ever done something you regret?” Kibum’s voice is heavy with something that sounds like guilt.

“Sure,” Taemin says easily, “I dyed my hair purple once. That was awful.”

“No, i mean. Really really regret. Something that could overturn your life regret.”

Taemin’s pause is almost audible. “I don’t think so? What happened, key?”

Kibum sucks in a breath. “I slept with Minho,” he says, words tripping over one another, a confession.

Jonghyun freezes at the words, and it feels like his heart shatters in his chest. They always did say never eavesdrop, you hear things you don’t want to know.

Perhaps he should have barged in, demanded an explanation, made a scene. Perhaps he would have, if he had been able to get his legs to move.

“Why?” Taemin asks the question Jonghyun wants to scream.

“I don’t know…he’s hot. And he always acts like wants me. And Jonghyun is so…busy and distracted nowadays…so on edge and I wanted…it was easy. He has the same string, I guess I wanted…to know.”

“You’re an asshole,” Taemin says, voice cold, after a beat. “Jonghyun loves you. He loves you so fucking much. You’re an asshole.”

Kibum lets out an almost incredulous laugh. “Guess I should have expected that.”

Taemin scoffs. “What? You wanted me to pity you? Cheer you on? Say congratulations for fucking over one of the best things that’s ever happened to you?”

“I haven’t fucked it over!” Kibum snaps.

“When you tell him, it will be.”

“Then I won’t.”

Whatever else Taemin has to say to that is left unheard, because the pain building in Jonghyun’s chest tears out of his throat in an anguished cry and the voices behind the door stop.

“That’s Jjong.” Kibum’s voice is hollow when he speaks again.

Taemin doesn’t answer.

The door clicks open and warm hands gather Jonghyun close and a soft voice says things Jonghyun cannot focus on. And it isn’t Kibum, it’s Taemin, drawing him into the apartment and placing himself in front like a shield.

“Jjong.” Kibum reaches out but is fended off by taemin.

“I don’t think you should say anything to him, you’ve lost the privilege,” he hisses.

In another world, Jonghyun would’ve laughed at Taemin’s viciousness. Like a lioness for her cub. But right now everything is lost in a haze of pain.

“No,” he whispers through tears, “let him talk.”

Taemin raises his eyebrows and when Jonghyun nods firmly, stares threateningly at Kibum, before he slides away to stand beside Jonghyun instead of in front.

Kibum opens his mouth, then closes it. Once, twice. “I don’t know what to say. ‘sorry’ seems too weak, and ‘it didn’t mean anything’ like an excuse,” he admits weakly.

Jonghyun smiles, a bitter taste flowing down his throat. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t mean.”

It’s Kibum’s turn to freeze, his mouth half open, almost comical. “Jjong,” he begins hesitantly. "It's not-"

Jonghyun ignores him, turning to Taemin. “Can I stay with you and Jinki for a while?”

When Taemin nods, Jonghyun moves purposefully to their room, avoiding the pictures framed on the wall (so happy, hopeful, sure), avoiding the bed where Kibum had pressed a kiss into his mouth just this morning. He grabs a bag, and an assortment of clothes and his toiletries. Enough for a couple of days. He figures he can come back and pack everything else. Right now, all he wants is to leave.

Taemin is holding on to Kibum’s wrists when Jonghyun comes out, like he was preventing him from running to intercept anything. Kibum still looks frozen, but there are the beginnings of tears streaming down his face, like cracks in a mirror.

“You ready?” Taemin calls, and at Jonghyun’s careful nod, smiles grimly, telling him to go first. Kibum seems to understand only when Jonghyun opens the front door, and then he lets out a scream.

“Jjong. Where are you going? Don’t leave. I’m sorry. He didn’t mean anything. It didn't mean _anything._ I’m sorry. I love you. I love you, you’re still my favourite. Please. Jjong. Please.”

Jonghyun wipes a hand across his watering eyes, the plea and desperation in Kibum’s voice were things he’s never heard before. “Jjong. Please. Don’t leave. Please.”

He wants to run back, gather Kibum up and promise forgiveness and forever. But this isn’t forgotten birthdays or broken dishes, this is Kibum reaching into Jonghyun’s chest and crushing his heart, this is betrayal.

He walks out steadily, and as fate would have it, meets Minho just coming back in. Minho smiles, like always, overly polite, like always. And this time Jonghyun lets himself see the hostility in the edges of his smile. 

“Your way is clear now,” he tells him, choosing to let hostility seep into his smile too. And maybe it’s that, maybe it's the red eyes, maybe it’s the hoarseness of his voice, maybe it’s Kibum’s voice, still audible from beyond the door, keening and desperate and broken, because Minho pauses and understanding flickers over his face. His smile cracks into half, replaced with discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. He doesn't sound like he quite means it.

Jonghyun just shakes his head and walks away. Sorry isn’t even close to enough.

When Kibum rushes out after Jonghyun, Minho catches him. “i think you need to leave him alone for a while,” he says, deep voice tender.

“I don’t want _you_ ,” Kibum says sharply, batting at him.

As the lift doors close on Jonghyun and Taemin, their last sight of Kibum is him crumpling to the floor, Minho still cradling him, and the words “you’re still my favourite” lingering in the air.

Taemin reaches out to grip Jonghyun’s shoulders as his knees buckle and he too starts crying.

For the first time in 20 years, it isn’t Kibum by Jonghyun’s side.

⁂⁂

In the first three days after Jonghyun leaves, Kibum calls in sick. He lies silently on Jonghyun’s side of their bed, where if he imagines hard enough he thinks he can still catch his scent. Only fools gamble with their greatest treasures; Kibum thinks. Perhaps he is one of them.

The desperate anguish has drained away into a strange sort of hollowness, like his organs have been scooped out. He's numb, but he thinks maybe numbness might be a little better than the full-body pain.

It’s almost laughable, that they had unravelled the way they did. Jonghyun had always been the one who cared too much about the strings; always wanted that visible bond to validate the feelings between them. A promise, maybe, of forever. It had never really mattered to Kibum. To him, things were simple, he had always been Jonghyun’s and Jonghyun had always been his, whatever destiny – capricious and cruel destiny – seemed to think.

It’s ironic then, that Kibum’s string would be the one to hang them.

⁂

Kibum is no stranger to the idea of red strings and soulmates; his own parents had been bound together by one of those, a rarity in the modern times. Destined lovers, their friends had always said. Meant to be, forever. It was an easily accepted fact that would become a bitter joke the year he turned 17.

At 17, his parents divorced. When his mother sat him down to gently inform him, Kibum shrugged. He wasn’t all that surprised. He had been an unwilling witness to many of their fights – whispered and screamed, had seen for himself the conflict between what the string meant and the frustration and pain that was growing between their hearts.

“I should love him,” he heard his mother mourn to her friends. “I just don’t.”

People called it love at first sight, but his mother, with the perfect vision of hindsight, called it peer pressure when she told him the story, with a wry quirk of her mouth. She always told him the truth.

“A society-wide kind of peer pressure,” she reflected, eyes misty. “we believed we were meant, and so held onto that. That we had little in common, that we couldn’t really talk to each other, that we weren't actually interested in each other. Those things weren't supposed to matter. We had the string, so we thought it meant something. It must have, after all it carried us for twenty years. But everything breaks eventually right?”

“I'm in love with Jonghyun,” Kibum said, quietly, non sequitur, but so relevant. “We’re not soulmates. Jonghyun believes in soulmates.”

“I know, baby,” his mother whispered. “but the string doesn’t need to mean anything, not unless you want it to.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Kibum told her, somberly.

“I’m sorry too,” she replied, and when she pulled him into a hug, he didn’t resist.

“I don’t believe in red strings,” he told Jonghyun later, leaning into his side.

Jonghyun hummed and carded fingers through Kibum’s hair. “Then we’ll make our own kind of string,” he said softly.

Kibum smiled. _But I believe in you and me._

⁂

Jonghyun was – is Kibum’s favourite. You’re my favourite, he said that over and over, and he meant it each time, even when he darted off to flirt with other people, even when he fell into short-term relationships in their younger years. Jonghyun was his favourite, the person he would run back to, his constant, his stability. And, on Jonghyun’s 18th birthday when their lips had touched and held, Kibum had believed he was and would be his always.

Minho had been a mistake, a morbid curiosity he had toyed with by mistake. There was a spark between them, still there; attraction and desire, and Kibum wanted to know how far he could take it. Wondered to test the power of the string. Wanted to test the power Minho let him have. If someone had asked him why, he wouldn’t have an answer. Perhaps just because he could, because it was fun, because it made him feel invincible. And ultimately, he imagined, it was harmless.

Nothing really is entirely harmless. He knows that now.

Jonghyun had been working round the clock back then; many weekends and nights, busy with a book launch and a tender for a nation-wide textbook. “Publishing is hard work,” he would quip to Kibum when he came home, late in the night, and Kibum would smile softly. Jonghyun would brush his mouth chastely over Kibum’s and head to bed, exhausted, deep in sleep before Kibum could blink twice. And despite understanding the situation, despite knowing it would only be for a while, Kibum slowly began to feel a certain amount of abandonment.

It was selfish, self-centred, a very small, kind of poisonous emotion. But he let it seep in, revelled in it. Selfish, small, ugly, he sees it now, but he hadn’t then.

Spending time with Minho was a balm Kibum very willingly used.

It was easy, with Minho. Easy to preen under the affection, easy to tease, to play, to make fun, easy to just be. It was easy also to laugh off Minho's assertions that the thread must mean something. Because although he knew that a certain kind of love was laced under the attraction and desire that trembled between them, he also knew it was only from Minho's end.

Kibum was in love with Jonghyun, and Minho knew that. It was a fact that Minho seemed intent to change, and Kibum liked watching him try.

Jonghyun slowly turned distant, head caught up in work and stress. When he was home, he was often too tired to talk. Kibum talked for them both, feigning unawareness at Jonghyun’s involuntary flinch at the number of times Minho's name was mentioned, at how much time Kibum spent with him. Jonghyun never said a word against it though, sometimes seemed almost resigned, like he was waiting for the final bell to toll. Maybe _Kibum_ should have said something, but he hadn’t.

The day he cheated, because that’s what it was, no sugarcoating, was a day Jonghyun was working late. Again. Minho asked him out for dinner and Kibum shrugged and agreed, dropping Jonghyun a text that didn’t get a response.

They ended up at minho’s place after dinner, nothing all that different from the usual. Kibum liked to go over to watch movies, drink and chat, sometimes pulling Jonghyun with him.

It was still easy to laugh off Minho's assertions about fate, giggle about the way he adamantly refused to give up, no matter how many times Kibum denied him. It was flattering, to be so wanted so much so openly. Kibum never told him about the way his parents had fallen apart, the string too weak to keep them together. Never really told Minho that he didn’t believe in the strings, only in his own will.

That night, they had drunk a little and laughed a lot and when Minho gazed down at Kibum, there was such softness in his eyes that something lodged in his throat. When Minho had leaned in to kiss him, Kibum hadn’t stopped him, a part of him wanting to bend to the sizzle of attraction and energy always jumping in between them; static electricity and fate.

Maybe their souls fitting together might mean their bodies did too; heat and sweat and sin. Kibum wanted Minho, he had from the start, was attracted to his body, wanted to explore it with hands and tongue and teeth. But he didn’t love Minho. And maybe that was the difference between them, because Minho loved Kibum, but Kibum loved Jonghyun. And that knowledge curdled his stomach even as he closed his eyes and came with a cry.

It turned pleasure into pain, made him feel dirty, tainted, like he had plucked wings off a butterfly for fun.

Minho grinned lazily up at him after and Kibum saw a satisfaction in his face, like he had finally gotten the result he had been working towards. “So what now?”

Kibum felt dread coil with his gut. “What now is there?”

“How are you gonna tell Jonghyun? You’re leaving him, right?” Minho’s eyes were wide and clear and Kibum nearly snorted out a laugh. Minho was so sure.

“No,” he said, slowly, “this was one time. A mistake. It’s never happening again, it shouldn’t have happened. I’m a fucking fuck up.” He swung his legs over the side of Minho's bed, and dry heaved. “i fucked up. I love Jonghyun.”

“But you want me.” Miraculously, Minho was actually confused. “You can’t deny that.”

“Yes, I do,” Kibum said, “but I don’t love you. There’s a difference.”

“You could, if you tried. The string-”

“I need to go home.” 

When he pulled on his clothes and left, Minho said nothing, just watched him with those wide open, almost innocent eyes and Kibum had a fleeting thought that it was all going to get much worse before getting better.

He got home to a sleepy Jonghyun curled up on the sofa watching a rerun. “hey stranger,” he said, when Kibum walked in. “you’re late. Minho keep you long?”

“Yeah,” Kibum replied, smiling softly despite the guilt in his chest. “We were talking. You should have come over.” If he had, maybe-

Jonghyun just sunk deeper into the cushions and shook his head. “Come here,” he said.

“i’ll just…take a shower first,” Kibum said. Jonghyun tilted his head in curiosity but let it go. And his smile was beautiful and fond. And Kibum- Kibum was a fool.

He scrubbed furiously at his body under the shower, trying to remove all traces of guilt, of sin, of Minho. His tears mingled with the water running down his face and he wondered if he and Jonghyun could survive this, if they would only rot slowly now, with this parasite of a secret he had allowed in.

The clothes he had worn, he threw away.

“You smell nice,” Jonghyun muttered, curling into Kibum when he joined him on the sofa.

“It’s just soap,” Kibum replied.

“And you,” Jonghyun said, the words broken by a yawn.

Kibum laughed gently. He slung an arm around Jonghyun’s waist and guided him up, turning off the television with his free hand. “You should’ve slept ages ago,” he whispered.

Jonghyun nuzzled into his shoulder. “Wanted to wait for you.”

Kibum didn’t deserve him. Kibum desperately wanted to keep him. “I love you,” he said.

Jonghyun’s smile is beatific. “Love you more.”

“You’re my favourite,” Kibum said into Jonghyun’s hair, too quiet for him to hear.

When Jonghyun fell asleep later, Kibum stayed up, listening to Jonghyun’s soft breathing. His tears, when they came, were not that much of a surprise.

⁂

A volley of emphatic knocks break Kibum out of his reverie, and for a moment he thinks _Jjong!_ Before remembering Jonghyun has the key, and that Jonghyun probably wouldn’t want to come back.

When Minho's voice yells his name from the other side, Kibum sighs. He supposes Minho's finally gotten annoyed by the rejected calls and unanswered text messages.

“Look, I know it hurts right now, but this is better ultimately,” Minho is talking even before Kibum has the door fully open. “This is destiny, it’s unfortunate it happened this way, but it’s not all bad. You may not have him anymore but you still have me. It’ll be better. If you just…give this a chance. It’s meant to be anyway. He understands, at least he will.”

When Minho finishes his spiel, he turns beseeching eyes upon Kibum, and Kibum leans on the closed door behind him and lets out a near hysterical laugh. “You call cheating destiny?”

“Fate works in strange ways.”

“How do you still believe in this sort of thing now?”

Minho shrugs, pinning Kibum down with a stare. “If you really didn’t want this, you wouldn’t have kept coming round, you wouldn’t have hung out with me, you wouldn’t have slept with me. You’re just fighting against something you shouldn’t.”

The laugh that falls out of Kibum’s mouth this time is despairing. “I really fucked up, didn’t i?”

Minho doesn’t say anything, and his consistent gaze is disconcerting.

Closing his eyes briefly, Kibum peels himself off the door and walks in to sit on a chair. “Minho, it was a mistake, I don't want to start anything with you. I led you on, maybe. I didn’t mean to. I thought- I just…I made a mistake.”

“But-” Minho’s words fall silent at the sound of a key in the door. Kibum’s heart leaps to his throat as the door gently swings open to frame Jonghyun, accompanied by Jinki. When Minho swivels to face the door, Jonghyun’s face blanches.

“I’m just here for my stuff,” he says directly to Kibum. “i didn’t think you would be here.” There’s so much pain swimming in Jonghyun’s eyes that Kibum thinks maybe hate would be better.

“I should go,” Minho mutters. Kibum doesn’t answer.

Instead he follows as Jonghyun walks into their room, watches as he slowly starts filling an empty suitcase with clothes and accessories, as he empties his books and music albums into a box jinki quietly tapes up. He watches as Jonghyun stares for a moment at the trinkets they had bought together, that Kibum had bought for him, that he had bought for Kibum. At the years of their friendship and love spelled out in the multiple framed photos of just the two of them, grinning into the camera and believing in forever. Jonghyun turns to face Kibum slowly, and there are tears brimming in his eyes. “You can keep the rest,” he says.

“No,” Kibum whispers, reaching out. “No. I don’t want to keep them without you. Come back to me. Don’t do this. I love you. I’m sorry. He was a mistake. I’m sorry. Please. Jjong. Please.” His legs give out and he collapses in front of Jonghyun. Pathetic, defeated, fool. “Please. Don’t go. Please. Forgive me, we can work this out. We can survive this. Please.”

He’s still murmuring a litany of pleas when Jonghyun stoops down and runs his fingers through Kibum’s hair. “You need to condition that,” he mutters, and when Kibum looks up, Jonghyun is smiling sadly down at him.

“Here.” Kibum takes the folded envelope handed to him mutely, waiting for explanations. “There are three months left on the contract for this place. That’s my part. I know it’ll be hard for you alone. I can do that for you, at least.”

Jonghyun’s gaze is steady on Kibum, even as tears track their way slowly down his face.

“You’re really leaving,” Kibum whispers.

“Yes.”

“Hurt me, scream at me, hit me. Just don’t leave.” His pleas are softer now, less adamant. There’s a creeping sense of finality in everything, a finality Kibum does not want.

Jonghyun shakes his head slowly and stands up again, making his way to the door with his packed suitcase, Jinki following behind with a box. When Kibum cries out, he looks back, just once.

“Goodbye, Kibum.”

Then the door shuts and Kibum is alone.

⁂

The next two months go by in greyscale. Kibum wakes up each morning forgetting, expecting to roll into the warmth of Jonghyun, expecting soft eyes, softer mouth. Every morning is a new heartbreak, layered over the one from the day before. And he deserves it. He knows he does. The empty shelves and cupboards remind him, the hollow silence of the apartment reminds him. Jonghyun always had music on; he said it helped him work. Kibum never knew many of the songs but he always loved listening to Jonghyun hum along.

He wishes he had recorded that. He wishes he had told Jonghyun he loved him more. He wishes he had stopped hanging out with Minho so much, especially when Jonghyun’s face started to pinch at each mention of the name. He wishes he had done everything different.

But wishes like these are throwaway useless things, just like all the throwaway useless things that had led him to where he is now.

⁂

Despite himself, there’s a strange hope that Kibum still holds close, that Jonghyun will come back. Just as long as he stays to wait. That maybe goodbye just meant for a while and not forever.

So even as the days pass, sometimes too quick to breathe, Kibum doesn’t make plans to move out or to look for another place. He wants to be where Jonghyun can find him.

If, when, if only.

It’s only when the landlord calls and asks if he wants to rent the place for another year that he realises he’s left with a month.

“No,” he whispers finally, reluctance in every word. “I’ll leave in a month.”

When Kibum ends the call, he curls up and cries bitterly. Jonghyun really isn’t coming back. The realisation feels like a dagger through his heart.

The thought of starting again without the security of Jonghyun beside him is terrifying and Kibum doesn’t know if he wants to begin. He wonders if somewhere else Jonghyun is also facing similar fears, wonders if Jonghyun also misses him. Wonders if the months of no contact have let him move on, or if he’s standing still too, waiting for the world to blow him away.

⁂

“Hello stranger.” Kibum jumps at the voice near his ear.

He turns to face an annoyed Minho; hurt eyes and crossed arms. Minho, who he’s been avoiding since the day Jonghyun took his things, Minho who, in spite of everything, has been hurt too.

“Are you leaving?” Minho asks, indicating the trolley bags and the box beside Kibum.

“Yes,” Kibum says. “I can't afford this place without jjong so I found somewhere else…cheaper. Far away.” He slides his gaze away. His own pain is enough, he doesn’t want to carry someone else’s.

“Were you going to tell me?”

Kibum scoffs. “Why should i have?”

“Because-” Minho points at the string and Kibum rolls his eyes.

“I don’t believe in that.”

“Then, because we’re friends…aren’t we?”

Kibum smiles at the earnestness in Minho's expression. “Are we?” _Would you let us just stay friends?_

“We could be, and then maybe, slowly, something else.”

Minho catches Kibum’s hands. “I’m not Jonghyun. But I don’t have to be, I’m your perfect fit, and if you just let me-”

But Kibum shakes his head and pulls away. “I desired you, that’s all it was. If you asked now, I might still want to fall into bed with you. Maybe this soulmate thing is just the sex, maybe it’s wanting to be physically around each other. Maybe that’s how it starts. Maybe it could be love if we let it but I…don’t want it to be. I want to love Jonghyun, try to find him again, start over. I don't want to move on. No matter what this string says, it’s not what i want.”

“Maybe in the future…”

Kibum laughs, a real one. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“No.”

Kibum tilts his head and surveys Minho. “Maybe,” he allows. “Who knows?” 

Minho nods and finally moves away, and Kibum grabs his bags and the box filled with all the carefully framed photographs and heads to the lift.

⁂

_Hey. It’s Kibum. Do you still have my number? I just wanted to tell you I moved out. Just in case._

_(location attached)_

_I miss you._

⁂⁂

“Huh,” Jonghyun mutters, staring at the message blinking on his phone; it’s Kibum again.

Kibum’s been doing that the past 5 months, texting him on and off, texts that Jonghyun never replies. He tells Jonghyun about his life the way he always did, as if they hadn’t broken each other’s hearts, as if they hadn’t both been shattered. Jonghyun reads the texts, but never responds. He wonders if it’s a kind of masochism, if he will hate himself when Kibum stops saying _I love you_ and _I miss you_ and _forgive me please come back_. He wonders if he really does want to go back to him.

“You really should block his number,” Taeyeon says from across the hall where she’s curled up on the couch. Jonghyun snorts, his housemate says that a lot; a few times a day to be precise, or each time the texts come in. But Jonghyun never actually does that, he likes the texts, likes to imagine the words in Kibum’s voice. It reminds him of what they used to do at the end of every day, lean against each other and talk about their days. And even though their days diverged so much most of the time, it was a way to keep close. Or it had been, until Jonghyun started getting too busy to do much else besides fall asleep after he gets home, before Kibum started spending most of his time with Minho.

When the world goes silent, sometimes Jonghyun can see why Kibum did what he did; he’s always known that Kibum enjoys attention and the spotlight, and in those last moments of their relationship, Jonghyun really hadn’t been able to give enough of that to him. It’s no excuse but he can almost see how it could happen now.

The wound on his heart is still unhealed though, and he isn’t sure if it’ll ever heal enough that he can stand beside Kibum without letting it destroy them both. He loves Kibum. Still. But can’t imagine being together anymore. At least, not right now.

“I don’t want to,” he tells Taeyeon.

“Then you’ll never move on,” she says. It’s a conversation that has been rehashed enough times over the three and a half months they’ve been living together.

“Maybe I don't want to,” he replies.

“You either take him back, or you move on-” taeyeon starts.

“Right now, you’re both just standing still, letting the world move on without you.” Jonghyun finishes the sentence with her.

Taeyeon rolls her eyes and groans, and Jonghyun grins. They’ve become close.

Taeyeon is Taemin’s cousin. When she was left in the lurch after her previous housemate had moved out to live with her girlfriend with barely a week’s notice, Taemin recommended Jonghyun. If Jonghyun or Taeyeon noticed the badly suppressed glee on Taemin's face when Taeyeon shrugged and readily agreed at their first meeting, they didn’t mention it.

Perhaps it was because Taemin’s goodwill had an expiry date, perhaps he wanted his home back, perhaps he just needed to see Jonghyun taking steps to move forward.

Whatever it was, his machinations had allowed a chance for a new beginning.

If Jonghyun wanted that anyway.

“What does your ex want now anyway?”

Jonghyun’s smile dimmed. “His grandmother died,” he says softly. “He loved her more than anyone else I think.”

“Oh.” For once Taeyeon doesn’t have a snarky response to a message from Kibum.

“Yeah.” Jonghyun’s smile flickers. “I’ve met her many times. She was the first one we told when we first got together. I wonder if he ever told her we broke up.”

“Probably not.” Taeyeon’s smile is pitying, and maybe that is worse than the scorn. Jonghyun isn’t sure yet.

His phone buzzes with a text from Taemin.

_Key’s grandma just passed away. Jinki said we should tell you. I thought we shouldn’t but._

Jonghyun snickers a little. As much as Taemin likes getting his way, Jinki often manages to have the deciding vote.

He hasn’t told them that Kibum still texts him, even if they go unanswered. And it seems that Kibum, if he’s still in touch with them, hasn’t told them either. It’s a little secret they are both hiding away; a guilty one maybe, something wrong. Jonghyun doesn’t really know or care, he just wants to keep a fraying string stretched between them for as long as he can.

 _Okay_ is all he texts back.

⁂

On the second day of Kibum’s grandmother’s wake, Jonghyun slips into the room at the last possible minute, hiding at the back of the crowd. He can see Kibum at the front, arms around his mother. He looks as though he’s crying into her shoulder. There’s an ache that pulses in Jonghyun’s chest, like it’s urging him to go forward and let Kibum lean on him, support him and let him break down. But he doesn’t. He watches as Kibum’s close friends from university go up and he falls into their arms, watches as Taemin and Jinki go up too. There’s a part of his heart that warms when Taemin hugs Kibum, glad that their friendship hasn’t entirely broken.

He sees Minho too, sees him attempt to hug Kibum and sees Kibum veer away awkwardly. He sees Minho have to be content with a handshake.

The string between their fingers seems to glow but only Minho notices.

There’s a bitter smile that curls his lips at the sight, but also pity. Minho is only trying to love Kibum, and it must be a cruel taste to love someone who is supposed to be meant for you only to be pushed away.

When Kibum whispers to his mother and slips away, Jonghyun steps forward, bowing to the casket then to the family gathered. When he walks towards them, Kibum’s mother reaches out and grasps both his hands. “Thank you for coming,” she murmurs. The tear tracks on her cheeks have dried but her eyes are still swollen and red.

“If you could wait, Kibum is coming back..” Her voice trails off as Jonghyun shakes his head.

“Give him my condolences, but right now…I don’t think we should see each other.”

Just as he turns away, he hears his name called in a frantic voice, and when he looks back, Kibum is there, struggling against his mother’s hold on his wrist. The next guest is watching them in confusion, because Kibum is crying and reaching for Jonghyun and there’s such agony in the twist of his face that all Jonghyun wants is to reach back and close arms around him and be his comfort. Instead he shuts his eyes briefly then opens them to smile politely at Kibum, and walks out the room.

Jonghyun only realises he’s crying too when he’s driving back and the road turns blurry in his vision.

⁂

“Hyun? Why are you crying?”

By the time he gets back to the apartment, he’s weeping. He doesn’t know if it’s for Kibum’s grandmother or if it’s just because Kibum had looked so broken and lost. He doesn’t know if it’s grief or the pain of a heart still broken. Or maybe it’s both, tumbled and tangled together and too intertwined to pry apart.

So when Taeyeon opens her arms, he lurches up to her and falls into them.

She runs her hands up and down his back, shushing him gently and slowly his sobs quieten. When he looks at her, there’s something bright and beautiful in her gaze and when she leans up and brushes her mouth over his, he lets it happen.

When she pulls away, he stops her, then leans forward and kisses her again and again. As they stumble towards her room, he finds he wants to search for comfort in her skin and hands and mouth.

She doesn’t deny him.

⁂

Jonghyun wakes up to Taeyeon's hair in his mouth and her breasts pressed against his back, and for a moment he lets himself take in the beauty of her bare form.

Then he shakes her awake.

“Why did you-” he gestures to both of them in lieu of finishing the sentence.

She smiles, but there’s something false about it. “Sometimes you need to remember life after brushing close to death.”

“So you offered yourself up?” The skepticism in his voice is clear.

“Why not?” But her cheer seems forced and her gaze slides too swiftly away.

“Do you…” There’s something terribly presumptuous about the thought in his head.

“Like you?” She finishes the question for him and chuckles. “Yeah.”

The twist of her mouth is sharp.

“I- I’m sorry.” Jonghyun casts worried eyes at her, brows furrowed, mouth downturned. And taeyeon scoffs at his expression.

“This is why I didn't want to tell you, I know it’s impossible and I really didn’t want to see you make this pathetic face.” She turns to face Jonghyun square. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just make a note in the book: bad in bed.” Her grin at him is bright and sassy, and Jonghyun knows they’ll both be okay.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Taeyeon doesn’t ask what for, just nods and brushes her hand over his hair.

⁂

Taeyeon falls asleep again quickly and Jonghyun presses a kiss to her forehead before leaving to his own room.

Back on his own bed, he stares at the ceiling unseeingly and wonders why it feels like cheating, like he had betrayed Kibum. After all, there’s nothing between them now, except that frayed string of memory. Maybe a rational person would see that it is foolish to freeze in place just because of one big love in the past. But maybe Jonghyun isn’t all that rational.

Kibum…was supposed to be his forever love. And if that anguished yearning he had seen in the quick glimpse of Kibum’s face was any indicator, he had thought so too.

“If I can’t give you up, then maybe we should try again.” Jonghyun laughs at the words that tumble out of his mouth. Perhaps that’s all he’s been waiting to verbalise.

Maybe.

He falls asleep.

⁂

When Jonghyun crawls out of bed, it’s already past noon, and Taeyeon has gone off for her vocal lesson. It’s quiet, and usually he enjoys it, being alone with his thoughts. But today it feels lonely, claustrophobic, suffocating; he wants another human with him, another voice.

Or maybe he just wants Kibum.

It’s odd that after 5 months, seeing Kibum still feels like pain. Being separated from him still feels wrong. Maybe Kibum’s betrayal is something he can live with now, something he can work to overcome, and maybe he wants to see if they both can try. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t let himself move forward since, at least not properly.

Jonghyun sighs. Too many maybes, and his heart just wants to cleave to Kibum again, never let go. Work with the love that has always shimmered between them, even if Kibum has torn a still-bleeding wound in it.

It should be easy, but he’s still hurting, still scared, still afraid to take the olive branch Kibum keeps offering.

It should be easy, but it’s not.

There’s a voicemail on his phone when he notices it, from an unknown number. And when he clicks on it in curiosity, Kibum’s voice filters out.

_Hey. I- this is Kibum, it isn’t my phone, i thought you wouldn’t pick up if it was…you didn’t anyway. Guess you’re sleeping already._

_Thank you for coming today, I didn't think you would. She really liked you. I never told her we broke up, I just said you had to go away for a while._

_I wanted to talk to you today, I wanted to apologise. Again. Beg you to take me back. But I guess that wasn’t the right place for it, and you- you don’t want that. I should’ve figured that out by all the unanswered texts but- you didn’t block me and I thought- maybe. Maybe I could hope._

_But it’s silly isn’t it? Hanging on to this. I love you and god I miss you so much. But I should let you go, shouldn’t I? People keep saying that. That it was me who destroyed everything and I- shouldn’t expect you to live with it._

_You’re mine, Kim Jonghyun. I still think that way. I thought you would be, forever._

_And I'm yours, even if I made you think differently._

_I’m still yours. You’re still my favourite and I miss you so much._

_But if it’s better- if it’s better, then, I’ll let you go._

Jonghyun freezes, his hand clenching around his phone. He wants to call back, tell Kibum no, tell him he wants to stay his favourite.

He doesn’t.

Taeyeon comes home to find him crying at the kitchen table, the voicemail playing on repeat. She doesn’t ask, just drags him into his room and puts him to bed.

“You’re making this more complicated than it should be,” she tells him. “Call him back, say you love him still. Start over.”

Jonghyun lets out a choked laugh. He doesn’t know why he can’t. He doesn’t know when he will.

Perhaps Kibum is right, perhaps they should just let each other go.

⁂⁂

The place Kibum moves to is nothing like what he left; it’s a small room in the home of a young couple with a child aged about four years old. The little girl has a tendency to cry loudly in the depths of the night, shout too loudly in the middle of the day and her toys are scattered over the floor more often than not. It’s likely why Kibum gets the room cheap despite it being nearer to the city centre than the previous place.

But he likes it, likes knowing there are other human beings under the same roof as him, breathing the same air. He likes the way the little girl will smile at him sometimes, bright and open, even likes the way she cries so wholeheartedly, so shamelessly. The cries sound like the pain swimming in his chest sometimes; it makes him feel less alone, makes him forget that sometimes he thinks it would be better to suffocate from the loss.

Kibum still texts Jonghyun regularly; messages that he never gets a reply to, but he continues with a dogged persistence, believing one day, he’ll get something back. It’s a kind of comfort; it reminds him of when they would curl into each other and talk about their days. Back then, nothing ever seemed valid until it was told to Jonghyun; every story was carefully remembered to later be handed over like a gift. When Jonghyun got too busy, Kibum had chosen to fall asleep without waiting to share his life, had ended up telling Minho instead, and without realising it had sliced himself out of Jonghyun’s life.

Perhaps trying to breach the gap now is futile but all Kibum wants to do is try.

At least, he hasn’t been blocked. At least Jonghyun seems to be reading the messages, even if he hasn’t actually replied to any of them.

It isn’t much but Kibum will take it.

⁂

One of the first things he does when he’s properly moved in is visit Taemin and Jinki. There’s an unformed thought at the back of his mind, that maybe Jonghyun would still be there, that maybe he could beg forgiveness from three people at once. Maybe he could restart something.

When Taemin answers the door, the first thing he says is “Oh it’s you.”

The second is “Jonghyun has moved out. We’re not telling you where.”

“Taem.” Jinki’s tone is chiding. He strides up to the door too, greets Kibum with a nod and smile, and slides an arm around Taemin's shoulders.

Taemin turns to him, lips curled up in a pout and Jinki’s laugh is low and affectionate. He leans forward to kiss Taemin gently on his mouth.

Kibum starts crying. Not loud wails or sobbing, just tears silently overflowing. When his friends look back at him with alarm, he laughs, slightly wild. “I’m fine. It just- it happens a lot these days.”

“Jonghyun did that too,” Taemin divulges, and shakes his head sadly when a desperate sob claws its way out of Kibum’s throat. He reaches out to touch Kibum gently on the shoulder. “Come in.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kibum blurts out once inside the apartment. Jinki's chuckle is sad and soft.

“We aren’t the ones you need to apologise to,” he says seriously.

“I know.” And when Kibum covers his face with his hands and cries in earnest, they let him.

⁂

“We’re still your friends,” Jinki tells him later. “We just had to choose Jonghyun at that point.”

Taemin snorts, and Jinki rolls his eyes. “Ignore my dramatic boyfriend. He would worry at me at night, wonder if you realised what you had done, wonder if both of you would survive it.”

As Kibum’s eyes widen in disbelief, Taemin shrugs in attempted nonchalance. “What? You fucked up. Doesn’t mean i don’t still care.”

Kibum cries again, but it’s for a different reason this time.

⁂

_You still have us, but you don’t have Jonghyun. And you may not ever again. You know that, right?_

Kibum sighs, Taemin's words circling over and over in his mind. He knows, but it doesn’t mean he won’t try.

_Hey, how are you today? I just moved in…the family is cute, you would like their little girl i think. You always liked the idea of kids, even if you weren’t the best at them. Remember when we talked about adopting? Silly how much you remember sometimes. I hope you’re doing okay._

_I miss you._

It’s silly probably, but it’s also all he has left.

⁂

Kibum’s heart leaps up to his throat when 15 minutes later his phone beeps with a message, but when he checks it he laughs, dry and resigned.

It’s just Minho. Just Minho checking to see if Kibum is ready to move on yet, checking to see if Kibum is ready to move on with him. Even if it isn’t exactly spelled out like that.

Kibum types back a curt reply then flings the phone onto his bed. He would have wanted to stay friends with Minho, but the string that ties them together blinds Minho to that option. He only sees friendship as a stepping stone to something else and that Kibum doesn’t want.

Strange how one foolish decision could bind you to things you never wanted, could cut you adrift from the only person you ever wanted to keep.

⁂

There’s a terrifying kind of blankness in Jonghyun’s eyes when Kibum sees him at the funeral wake, like he has gone hollow. And maybe it’s a mask for Kibum’s benefit, but maybe it’s also the illustration of how his love for Kibum has quietly dissolved.

As Jonghyun turns away, Kibum screams and once he starts he finds he cannot stop. It feels like someone has torn his heart out, like maybe Jonghyun still has it clasped in his hands and is leaving with it. He’s still crying when his mother guides him out of the room.

She doesn’t berate him, just holds him as he sobs. And maybe it’s grief over his grandmother, maybe it’s the pain of seeing Jonghyun so close and yet unable to reach out to him, maybe it’s everything tangled together in a mess of anguish he cannot distinguish the source of anymore.

“I want him back,” he says to his mother, voice hoarse.

“I know,” she whispers. “but he doesn’t seem to want that. And sweetheart, you can’t blame him for that.”

Kibum doesn’t reply, just sobs a bit more.

⁂

He imagines Jonghyun will reply that last voice message, imagines Jonghyun will call him back, tell him not to give up, say he wants to always be Kibum’s favourite, say he still- he still-

When the time ticks by with no call, no text, no response of any kind, Kibum learns the death of hope is silent. He learns that it dies the way a flower does, soundlessly withering and drying up. He learns that in the silence the pain feels like he’s being buried alive. He tells himself he will let himself cry just one more time.

He knows it’s a lie.

⁂⁂

“Hey Key…” Gwiboon starts, as they stand at their respective stations in the salon, “What are your thoughts on entrepreneurship?”

Kibum looks up from where he’s carefully winding a piece of his customer’s hair around a curler to blink dumbly at his colleague. “What?”

“Entrepreneurship,” Gwiboon repeats, “starting your own business. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Yes?”

Kibum privately thinks Gwiboon is a little bit of a wildfire, unpredictable and destructive. He’s closest to her out of everyone in their little salon but he usually begs out her schemes and ideas.

“Well, wanna do a freelance thing with me?”

Kibum blinks at her again then looks back at his customer’s head. “Pretty sure boss won’t appreciate that.”

“I asked her already. She said, and I quote, ‘I don’t care about your harebrained schemes, as long as you’re back here for your shifts and don’t kill this salon’s reputation.’”

Kibum snorts. “You are completely shameless.”

Gwiboon shrugs. “People have said that…so you wanna do the thing? My cousin makes wedding dresses and she said she can link us up with brides who need makeup, hair, nails…stuff like that.”

When Kibum doesn’t answer, Gwiboon casts a sly look sideways. “And i know you’ve been taking up more shifts because you broke up with your boyfriend so maybe this will help fill up your time too.”

Kibum doesn’t ask how she figured it out; she’s astute and Kibum has lost the will to hide his feelings lately. Perhaps it’s the lack of smiles, or the ducking into toilets and emerging with slightly red eyes and slightly smudged eyeliner, or how he’s working twice as many shifts. Maybe it’s that his ring isn’t on his finger anymore, instead hanging on a chain around his neck. Or maybe it’s just that his phone is silent all the time now when it usually went off so often the entire salon would tease him about it.

Jonghyun used to text. A lot. Almost excessively. Random thoughts and funny things he saw and experienced, sometimes rants, sometimes just _hey just wanted to say i love you_. Kibum used to get slightly annoyed at the sheer amount, but he would give anything for just a _hi_ at this point.

Gwiboon is still looking at him, waiting for an answer. Kibum decides to take a leap. “Oh what the hell, why not?”

When she smiles brilliantly at his acquiescence, he wonders if maybe she did it more for him than herself.

⁂

One and a half weeks later, Kibum finds himself sitting in the front seat of Gwiboon’s car as she speeds down the roads. “It’s a test run,” she informs him. “They’re doing a photoshoot so they wanna get a preview of what we can do.”

Kibum nods his acknowledgement as Gwiboon keeps prattling. Perhaps it’s more background information on the bride, perhaps it’s just talk to fill the air. Kibum isn’t really listening, he’s thinking about Jonghyun, thinking about how this is just another attempt to refocus his life so he isn’t always staring at the bottomless chasm that Jonghyun’s leaving has created. He’s thinking what he could do if it turns out he's never able to look away.

“Are you nervous?” Gwiboon glances at him when they reach the door of the apartment.

“No,” Kibum replies, “it’s just makeup and hair. Like we always do.” Gwiboon laughs and shakes her head.

“Confident,” she mutters, “no wonder boss likes you best.”

Kibum grins. That at least is still going well.

The bride’s name is Eunsook, and to Kibum’s critical gaze, her eyes are too small, her mouth slightly too large and her hair, long and straight down her back, is maybe a bit too greasy. But she looks up and smiles when they introduce themselves, eyes crinkled up, and it is like sunshine is trapped between her lips. He smiles back, there’s more beauty under the skin than on it.

Halfway through the makeup and hair, there’s a clatter at the door and two people’s laughter, one high-pitched and the other slightly lower. “That must be Taeyeon,” Eunsook says, “she’s going to be my maid of honour. Her boyfriend is going to take pictures; he isn’t a professional photographer but he does it enough that he’s pretty good.”

Eunsook pauses as Kibum sweeps a brush over her cheek. “Maybe he isn’t her boyfriend? I’m never entirely sure. Well, Jonghyun lives with her anyway…” Her words are soft, almost like she’s talking to herself.

“Jonghyun?” Gwiboon repeats. She looks over at Kibum. “Isn’t that the name of your-”

“It’s a common name.” There’s anxiety dancing up Kibum’s throat but he doesn’t want to think about it.

“Sookie!” The voice that interrupts them is loud and far too cheerful. “I brought him, he almost didn’t want to but I convinced him.”

Eunsook smiles fondly. “This is Taeyeon, she’s my maid of honour. She doesn’t need to be here but she’s really nosey. And that’s Jonghyun, he’s her…” When Eunsook trails off, a far too familiar voice finishes her sentence.

“I'm her reluctant captive.” Then Jonghyun laughs and Kibum freezes. Because he knows that voice, knows that laugh, has heard them almost every day for 21 years. Everyone else is still talking but all Kibum can hear is the beat of his heart in his ears, too loud, too fast.

Jjong.

He can feel the heat of tears at the back of his eyelids and the room feels like it’s closing in on him. “Key, are you ok?” Gwiboon’s concerned voice breaks through his trance and he meets her gaze with difficulty.

“Yeah,” he says, tone a bad attempt at casual, “I just realised I forgot to take one of the palettes from the car, I’ll just go down quickly.”

When Kibum looks up, Jonghyun is staring at him, the shock that Kibum is feeling mirrored in his eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” he tells the couple and then he is brushing past them, out the door and running down the stairs to the car. The tears tip over the minute he’s out of the house and Kibum wonders how long it’ll be before he stops crying over Jonghyun.

⁂⁂

"Kibum.” The name falls out of Jonghyun’s mouth only after the door has clicked shut behind the rush of Kibum leaving.

“Kibum,” he says again. He turns to Taeyeon, anxiety and longing mingled in his throat. “That was Kibum.” It’s almost a question, almost a plea. If there were magnets in them all, he thinks maybe the one in him has always been pulling him to Kibum.

Taeyeon looks at him from under her eyelashes. “Go after him,” she whispers. There’s something small and sad in her eyes, something Jonghyun doesn’t want to think about.

The girl who’s placing tiny white flowers in Eunsook’s hair looks up at the conversation. Her gaze is piercing and sharp and there’s something about the fall of bright red hair down her back that makes her seem almost intimidating. “There’s a black car with a little mermaid plush toy on the dashboard in the first row of the car park nearest the block. He’s probably there.”

Her hands pause and surveys Jonghyun carefully. “I don’t know what happened between you two. But if this is just going to make things worse, leave it. You can both pretend you don’t know each other. Key is good at that when he isn’t crying.” Then she looks back down at her work and readjusts one of the strands of hair. Jonghyun is certain, she is very intimidating.

He runs out the door, shouting back a word of thanks.

It’s far more difficult to locate the car than Jonghyun initially thinks; black cars are common this year it seems and that redhead’s description entails him staring like a snoop into every other vehicle. He’s just about to call Taeyeon and ask for the damn license plate when he finds it. He hears Kibum before he sees him, soft sniffles and a chiding voice.

“Wow Kibum, you don’t see Jjong for close to a year and instead of being calm and collected you nearly drop a brush and then start crying. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Jonghyun smiles softly, Kibum does that sometimes, berate himself out loud, tell himself what to do. But only when he thinks no one is around.

“Okay snap out of it, Kim Kibum. Go up there, say hello to Jjong, smile. Then do your job!” Kibum pumps a clenched fist into the air then sighs and slumps deeper into the seat.

“Gods I’ve missed him so much.” He slides his hands over his face.

“I've missed you too,” Jonghyun interrupts from where he’s standing next to the half-open car door.

“Hi,” he whispers, when Kibum looks up in almost terror, tears still shimmering in his eyes. His eyeliner is smudged, Jonghyun notices. And for some reason, it makes him smile wider.

“Why don’t you ever buy waterproof eyeliner? You cry too much for the normal ones.”

“They claim this is waterpr-” Kibum’s typical rebuttal seems to get stuck in his throat as he stares at Jonghyun. “You’re an illusion, right? Or I'm dreaming, I must be. Did I fall asleep in the car?”

Jonghyun doesn’t answer, simply slips into the empty seat next to Kibum. He lifts his hand and curves it gently around Kibum’s cheek. Kibum instinctively leans into the touch, for all the world an affection-starved child. Jonghyun sighs at the connection; the touch of Kibum’s skin unravels the dead knot in Jonghyun’s chest, soothes the ache in his heart he hadn’t realised he was living with. He starts to think that maybe after all the pain, they could actually be at a place to try to fix things between them.

“I'm so sorry,” Kibum blurts, reaching up to grip Jonghyun’s hand, tight. “You’re still my favourite. You’re always- I’m sorry, it was a mistake, it was so stupid. I want- forgive me. You don’t have to be with me again, just forgive me. Forgive me.” His eyes are filling with tears, and the hand that is holding onto Jonghyun’s is shaking.

“Why did you do it?” Jonghyun asks quietly, finally able to ask a question he’s wanted an answer to for such a long time. But before Kibum can formulate a reply, there’s a knock on the window. They both look out to see Taeyeon waving at them.

“Kibum, Gwiboon says to tell you ‘you need to pull your weight’, and Hyun…you kinda need to do setup too.” From the corner of his eye, Jonghyun sees Kibum flinch at the easy familiarity in Taeyeon's voice when she addresses Jonghyun. Kibum’s grip on his fingers loosen.

“We’ll talk later,” Jonghyun whispers to Kibum.

Kibum doesn’t reply, instead he’s staring blank-faced at Taeyeon's hand. “You’re his soulmate,” he says slowly. His eyes track the string that links the two, and Jonghyun follows his gaze.

“Oh,” Jonghyun says incredulously, “I never noticed.”

Taeyeon smiles. “I did,” she admits quietly. "And when we tried going out, I thought you would too, eventually. But you never really let yourself see anyone else, did you?”

Jonghyun’s eyes widen, but the apology on his lips dies before it can be spoken, because Taeyeon glares at him. “don’t apologise. I didn’t really expect anything. You love him, I don't know how you can still but, it is what it is.”

Kibum turns a stiff smile to them both, manoeuvering his way out the car. “I should go help Gwi. I really don’t want her to poison my lunch on monday.”

“We’ll talk later,” Jonghyun repeats firmly, reaching out to grab Kibum’s wrist.

Kibum’s gaze on him is half hope, half fear. “If you want to,” he says softly.

⁂

“When did you start doing this?” Kibum asks shyly, half way through the shoot.

Jonghyun’s mouth tilts up into a smile as he glances at him. “remember how the publishing company always made me take the pictures for books and magazines? Because of that, about 6 months back, when one of my colleagues couldn’t find a photographer for an event, she just asked me to do it. I realised…I wasn’t crap at it.”

Kibum laughs fondly. “I don’t think you would be crap at anything,” he says, but it’s so quiet Jonghyun can’t be sure he even heard it right. When he turns to ask Kibum to repeat himself, he’s met with an empty space; Kibum already helping to touch up the makeup on the bride and groom.

Kibum’s gaze flickers to him briefly, anxious and terrified. And Jonghyun realises, if he breaks Kibum now, maybe all that would happen is Kibum would close his eyes and tell himself he deserves it.

Jonghyun’s smile turns grim; once he might have thought the same.

⁂

As the shoot is wrapping up, Jonghyun sees Kibum in a fiercely whispered conversation with Gwiboon. He’s gesturing and pleading, but the girl is unimpressed. When her gaze lands on Jonghyun, she seems to smirk slightly and he can read her lips as she carefully enunciates the next words to Kibum. _Just go ask him._

Kibum’s face blanches when he’s spun around and sees Jonghyun watching, and after a beat, starts forward slowly. Taeyeon taps Jonghyun on the shoulder as Kibum draws nearer, pressing a key into his hand.

“Take my car,” she tells him. “I'll get a lift from Gwiboon.”

“Thank you,” he says, tenderly and meaningfully, trying to convey everything he feels in a single smile. She grins back easily, patting him on the shoulder.

“Don’t crash my car.”

Jonghyun gasps. “i have never crashed a car. How dare-”

But she’s already darted off to join Gwiboon, bright laugh trailing behind her. He shakes his head; they would be alright, he thinks, relieved.

The remnants of a smile is still lingering on his lips when a hesitant cough alerts him to Kibum’s presence.

“Hey,” Kibum says, voice small.

“Hey,” Jonghyun replies. There’s an awkwardness between them that has never existed before.

“You still wanna talk?”

Jonghyun nods at Kibum’s tentative question, and the answering smile is still so beautiful to him.

⁂

They make small talk on the way to a nearby cafe – where they used to go often as friends and then as a couple and where Jonghyun has deemed appropriate for the “conversation”. He makes a lighthearted joke of it, calls it like going for a court hearing. But Kibum only looks at him, eyes wide and mouth drawn and Jonghyun knows he’s scared, thinks that maybe for him, it really is like one. Jonghyun asks about the freelance work and Gwiboon, and Kibum asks about Jonghyun’s job and the photography. It’s polite and courteous and careful and doesn’t mean a damn thing.

⁂

“Why did you do it?” Jonghyun asks again, when they both have their drinks.

Kibum stares at him wordlessly for a moment, before he releases a breath. “I don’t know,” he says eventually. “You were so busy, and I was lonely and Minho was always just…there. I was flattered. And it was stupid, but I just wanted- to feel wanted.”

Jonghyun can’t hold back a snort, it seems like such a minute reason to destroy something so very important. Kibum flinches at the sound.

“I don’t know why I did it,” he finishes, looking somewhere beyond Jonghyun’s shoulder. “I don’t have a compelling reason. But cheating never really has one I guess. I just know I've regretted it the moment it happened. And I haven’t seen him since-” Kibum stops talking abruptly. And Jonghyun thinks maybe he’s remembering the funeral.

“I wish you had told me,” Jonghyun says softly. “I loved you. So much. I would have forgiven you if you had told me immediately. But you kept it secret, that made it worse.”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You did anyway, didn’t you?”

Kibum lets out a muffled laugh, half-wild, at Jonghyun’s words. “I did,” he agrees.

They stare at each other over their cups. There’s something else Kibum wants to say; Jonghyun knows from his hands restlessly tearing up the paper napkin. There’s something else Jonghyun wants to say but the words are still trapped behind his fear.

“I still-” Kibum begins, then shakes his head, and laughs again, this time bitter, mocking. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask you this.”

He looks up and meets Jonghyun’s eyes straight on. “I still- love you. Can we, try again?”

The breeze in the cafè sounds like laughter in Jonghyun’s ears, relief and reassurance. _He still loves you._

But Jonghyun doesn’t reply immediately, instead watches in silence as Kibum fidgets in his seat and tears the pieces of napkin into even smaller ones. There’s still fear mingled in the relief, and he’s wondering if maybe the fear will destroy them, if maybe it’s cleverer to slice through the bond between them, a clean break. But he also knows he will always be looking for Kibum in every person he tries to love.

“That was dumb,” Kibum says finally, breaking the silence and standing up. “of course you wouldn’t want to. Thank you for talking to me. I hope…you’re always happy.” There’s a sheen of tears over his eyes, and his voice has turned shaky.

Jonghyun reaches out to curl fingers over Kibum’s hand before he can leave. “You broke my heart,” he says solemnly, when Kibum looks back. “No, you destroyed it.” Kibum’s nod is slightly confused.

Jonghyun takes a breath. “I hated you, so much. But, I never stopped loving you.”

The tears brimming in Kibum’s eyes overflow at Jonghyun’s blunt words. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I will spend every day making it up to you, if you will let me.”

Jonghyun smiles; he stands up and runs his thumbs under Kibum’s eyes, catching the tears. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.” He wants to pull Kibum in and hold him close, but settles for cradling his face as he cries.

⁂⁂

Restarting isn’t easy; they know each other too well to pretend it’s like the first time, but they’ve also hurt each other too deeply that they don’t know how close they can be without opening up old scars. Jonghyun craves Kibum sometimes, his touch and his scent, but just brushing against Kibum’s skin reminds him of Minho; he wonders what exactly they did, wonders if Kibum moaned and screamed the way he would with Jonghyun.

His frustrations come out as cruelty sometimes, snapping back at Kibum when it isn’t necessary, holding his action over his head like a blade, alluding to the threat of leaving again.

There’s pain that flashes in Kibum’s eyes when these things happen, but the usually hot-tempered, sharp-mouthed man doesn’t retaliate, doesn’t fight back, just accepts the deliberate hurt like a quiet martyr. And at first Jonghyun relishes in the overturn of power, how submissive Kibum is, how easily he bends to Jonghyun’s will. He tests the boundaries; dragging Kibum to classical music performances he usually hates, to sports games where they balance on bleachers Kibum would usually make a face at. He brings Kibum to the same restaurant three weeks in a row once, and Kibum just smiles and orders something different each time.

The Kibum he knew…the Kibum he knows, would complain loudly, would whine a bit. The Kibum he knows would demand compensation and then a date to somewhere he’d prefer. The Kibum he knows isn’t this quiet unassuming accepting little ragdoll, and Jonghyun is afraid that his personality has been misplaced somewhere, put aside in his attempts to favour Jonghyun.

He doesn’t talk to Kibum about it, unsure if it’s a method of coping he isn’t familiar with. Instead he calls Jinki.

“If you are having problems with Kibum, you need to talk to him directly.”

“How did you-”

“He called Taemin two days ago. Obviously he doesn’t take advice. _Very good advice_ , if I do say so myself, since it came from me.”

“We’re not having problems, he’s just…different. It’s like he’s decided to go along with everything I say, everything I want to do, whatever it is. It’s like dating a robot.”

Jinki stays quiet, and Jonghyun thinks maybe that is what Kibum has decided to do, maybe that is also exactly what they told him not to.

“He’s started reporting his every action to me too, who he's going out with, where he's going. And he'll tell me everytime someone asks him to meet, as if he's waiting for my permission before he can go.”

Jinki sighs. “He just doesn’t want to lose you again.”

“He’s not going to, dammit.”

“And you’re _sure_ he knows that?”

“You’re not helping.”

“I think I am.”

Jonghyun ends the call without saying goodbye. Fuck Jinki and how astute he is.

⁂

Taking Jinki's advice is surprisingly hard. For two people who have spent nearly all their lives together, it's strange that somehow they have lost the ability to be completely honest. But the next time Kibum sends a detailed itinerary of his day, Jonghyun takes a deep breath, calls him.

"I'm your boyfriend, not your owner, you don't have to report to me," he says quietly, when Kibum picks up. He hears Kibum breathe in, too sharp.

“I..they said absolute honesty is necessary, so I thought it would be useful if you know where I am all the time. And I-” he breaks off and the silence spins just a bit too long.

“You want to come over?”

“I can't, I have to babysit in like half an hour, you saw my schedule. Her parents don’t get to go out often.”

There’s a bit of a bite in Kibum’s voice this time, something closer to the Kibum he remembers. And Jonghyun lets out a breath.

“I’ll go over then.”

⁂

There's a little girl standing next to Kibum when he opens the door to Jonghyun, and she's staring at Jonghyun with narrowed-eyed suspicion.

“Ji Hee, you go watch your cartoons okay? I need to talk to Jonghyun alone for a while.”

“No.” She extends her lower lip into a pout. “He makes you cry.”

“How does she-?” Under Jonghyun’s shocked gaze she wraps her arms around Kibum’s leg. “You’re mean, you make Key cry.”

Kibum shrugs apologetically. “Sometimes I tell her stuff? I don’t think she actually understands all that much.” Jonghyun also thinks maybe he did it because he didn’t believe he’ll ever see Jonghyun again, at least not in a circumstance that would have him visit where he’s staying.

Jonghyun sighs and stoops down to talk to the little girl. “I won’t make him cry, I just want to talk, okay?”

For a small child, she is awfully scary, he thinks. She casts him a mutinous look. “You promise?”

Jonghyun glances at Kibum and when he realises he's getting no help, sighs.

“I promise,” he vows and she squints at him before nodding and letting Kibum gently shoo her to the television.

“if i cry, she’ll really be very angry with you,” Kibum remarks later when he’s made space for them at the dining table.

“Are you using a five year old to threaten me?” Jonghyun puts on a faux shocked expression.

“Whatever works, right?” When Kibum shrugs and grins, Jonghyun reaches out to loosely grab ahold of his fingers.

“Why can’t you be like this more often?”

“Like what?” Kibum looks away, ostensibly towards the little girl enraptured by the cartoon but more likely just away from Jonghyun.

“Relaxed,” Jonghyun tries. "Human. Not like you're playing a role you're not sure how to."

Kibum doesn’t reply. Jonghyun pulls Kibum’s hand towards him and presses his mouth to it. “You don’t need to overturn yourself to please me. I don’t plan to leave you again.”

“Do you really?” There’s something desperate and sad in Kibum’s heavy gaze when it’s turned on him.

“I still…hate you a bit,” Jonghyun admits. “I'm also still irrationally worried you’ll go sleep with someone else. And I know I say things to hurt you sometimes. But we can work at it. You don’t need to give in all the time. Fight with me like you used to.”

“Will you stay?”

“Will you?”

Kibum looks hard at him. “I never wanted to leave,” he retorts.

Jonghyun laughs lowly. “So we try? Really try? Not this unbalanced thing where we just do what i want?”

Kibum nods. Then he grins softly. "I'll still tell you where I'll be, I think it’ll help for a bit.”

“I love you,” Jonghyun says impulsively, and it’s the first time he’s said it since the cafè.

Kibum looks like he’s about to cry. “I love you too, so much.”

“You’re making him cry again,” interrupts a cross childish voice on Jonghyun’s right. When he turns, he sees Ji Hee scowling at him.

Kibum lets out a watery laugh. “It’s alright, sweetheart, it’s happy tears.”

She frowns disbelievingly at them both, then decides to focus her attention on Kibum. “Do you love him in the way mama loves papa, or in the way mama’s sister loves her?”

Jonghyun chokes on his water. “Isn’t she a bit young for these questions?”

Kibum waves a hand, shushing him gently. He turns back to Ji Hee.

“I love him the way your mama loves your papa,” he tells her seriously.

“Oh.” She seems to ponder the answer a while.

Her gaze shifts Jonghyun. "Do you love him the way mama loves papa too?" For some reason, Jonghyun wants to avoid that gaze.

"I don't think you need to know that,” is what he ends up saying, tone sharp.

Ji Hee’s mouth twists at the reply and Jonghyun flinches. Maybe that was too harsh, he thinks, regret building in his chest. He gingerly reaches out a placating hand that she veers away from.

Kibum hurries over to her and takes her hands in his. “It’s okay,” he coos. “Jonghyun just doesn’t like talking about that.”

“He's mean,” she exclaims, “why is he being so mean?"

“It’s just a bit difficult right now,” Kibum explains. "We're trying to make it better."

She lets the question sit for a while. “Like when I do a bad thing and mama says she’s dissa- diso- not happy with me?”

Kibum nods. “Something like that.”

The little girl looks at Kibum, crouched near her and then at Jonghyun, who's hovering behind Kibum and nods. “Okay." she toddles over to pat Jonghyun on the arm. “I still think you’re mean. But Key says he loves you so maybe you’re not really mean. Just not happy.”

Then she wanders back to the television.

“She’s cool, isn’t she?” Kibum says, looking fondly at the little girl.

“She’s alright,” Jonghyun says. He’s looking at Kibum, and the soft smile on his mouth.

“Hey Kibum,” he whispers, “can I kiss you then?”

There’s something very pretty about the colour that crawls up Kibum’s face. “Okay.”

It’s a chaste kiss, barely anything more than a brush of their lips but Kibum sighs into it like it’s more, presses closer to Jonghyun. And Jonghyun can’t help sliding his arms around Kibum’s waist, pulling him flush against him.

“You’re still my favourite,” he murmurs to Kibum as they pull apart, like a promise. And Kibum lets out a sob, before slinging arms around Jonghyun’s neck and tugging him into another kiss.

⁂⁂

The first time I found out about soulmates was when my father left my mother. It had been a coincidence, or as my father gushed later, destiny. She was the new co-worker at his long time job. My mother smiled obligingly and let him leave her, to be free to follow the path fate had drawn out for him. When I found her crying later, I asked her why she let him go.

“Love isn’t stronger than destiny, sweetheart,” she told me gently. “We always said we would step aside for each other if fate showed us the right path. That’s the way it is.” At that point they had been together 15 years, 10 with me.

I believed her then, I might still believe her now. My father is still with his soulmate; they’re very happy. And my mother found hers when she turned 51 and she’s very happy too.

I always believed that true happiness only happens when you follow the thread of fate.

At 18, I tracked my string across my town, and at the edge of it, watched as the red line stretched away into the mist in the direction of the city centre. Back then, it seemed to be a sign; that if I moved there, I would find you. You and our happiness.

In hindsight, I wonder at my own naïveté, that I could so innocently balance all my happiness on one string and one person. I believed in destiny, but I didn't count on you.

When i met you, i thought you were perfect; your sharp eyes and your loud laugh. And judging from the way your eyes trailed over me, I knew you were interested too. Jonghyun seemed a simple enough barrier at first. After all, who doesn’t eventually bow to destiny?

You. You didn't.

When I told you I liked you, you laughed. “I know,” you said. “it’s no use anyway, I’m with Jjong. I love Jjong. You gotta get over me.” You weren’t cruel, but the simple frankness in the words hurt anyway.

I told you I was fine with just being friends, and somehow you decided to believe me. You liked making friends, liked surrounding yourself with people. I was just one of many, but I wanted to be your only one.

It was flattering, wasn’t it? To be pursued so recklessly and determinedly, maybe you liked feeling that way, maybe that’s why you hung out with me so much, why you accepted when I asked you out, even when wariness crept into Jonghyun’s stare, suspicion in the lines of his mouth. But such treatment would have turned anyone’s head, I'd wager.

You’d never been really pursued like that; even Jonghyun hadn’t. To me, it looked like a relationship of convenience, something you just fell into because it made sense at the time. I thought he was an easy choice I could simply overturn.

You didn’t and he wasn’t and at the end of it all, you never chose me. Not even after I got you naked under me, gasping and screaming.

When we finished you looked at me like I was a demon, like all you wanted was to run in the opposite direction. You looked at me like I was regret.

Then you slipped away and back into Jonghyun’s arms and that was all you left me with – the one time I imagined you could be close to mine.

When he left, I thought you would let me in, if only to fill the void. But you didn’t. You just carried on, day after day, too white and too sunken but refusing to do anything differently. And i asked about our bond, about relenting to fate; but you always laughed, like it was a ridiculous proposition you never considered.

"I don't believe in that," you told me, and your laugh was cold. I didn’t know how to make you see that fate will have her way, however much you try to fight it. Didn’t know how to stop you from trying.

Then you moved away, and wouldn’t tell me where. You still answered my calls and texts sometimes but kept a distance between us, a barrier you never let yourself cross.

"Accepting you means I lose Jonghyun forever,” you said once. “I cannot do that. I will never do that.” Perhaps you meant me to give up, but I didn’t, I still believed destiny would overrule.

At your grandmother's wake I tried to hug you, the way many people did before me, but you dodged away from me, and the discomfort in the twist of your mouth was palpable. It hurt, the way your quiet rejections always did. But as always I saw it as one of the steps on a path, something you had to go through before accepting the route laid out for you, before accepting me.

But when you saw Jonghyun, the way you screamed scared me, the naked yearning in your eyes. The way you reached for him reminded me of the way a drowning person would stretch for a lifebuoy. Like he was your lifebuoy, the only way you knew how to survive. And you cried with so much desperate abandon i realised suddenly what i was trying to tear apart, who I was trying to tear apart.

Jonghyun nodded to me as he walked away and I don't think you saw it when he looked at you, but there was something awfully bleak in his eyes. Something shrieking with as much pain as you were letting out. And I realised that being without you hurt him as much as it hurt you. You didn’t love me, you had said, you just wanted me. You told me there was a difference, but I hadn’t seen it til then; in the wild screams falling from your mouth, in the way he looked like his insides had been scooped out and spread out for scavengers.

I left soon after Jonghyun did, and I don't think you even realised.

How do you fall in love with someone if there isn’t a red string to tell you to?

You were supposed to be mine, but you didn’t want to be. You wanted to bind your heart to someone who isn’t yours. But who maybe is more yours than i will ever be.

I saw you both just once after that. It was at a movie theatre; you were bickering over which show to catch. Your hands were clasped together, fingers interlaced, shoulders bumping. You laughed at something he said, and he leaned close and kissed you on the ear. You batted him off with your free hand but it was only playful. And there was a glow under your skin, a light glimmering in your eyes, and you looked so so happy. The red string around your little finger still shone, but I think, in the rose haze of your love for him, you didn't pay any attention to it.

You didn’t see me, and I didn't say hi. But you never really saw me, did you?

Only him. And as I had to learn, always only him.


	2. extras

**home**

"The moon is bright tonight," Jonghyun whispers, gazing up into the sky.

"There's a chinese legend about the moon," Kibum says softly. "They say there's a lady living there. She took an elixir of immortality and instead of flying to the heavens she flew to the moon so she could be near to her husband."

Jonghyun laughs. "Would you fly to the moon for me?"

"I'd even fly to the sun."

Jonghyun laughs again, and tightens his grip around Kibum's hand. When the silence falls, it's a comfortable one.

At the subway station, Kibum kisses Jonghyun on the cheek and makes for the turnstiles, digging into his bag for his card. But Jonghyun jerks him back just as he's going in. Kibum looks over in confusion. "Jjong? You okay?" there's something nervous in Jonghyun's expression.

"My place is like 10 minutes away if we walk," he says abruptly.

Kibum's eyebrows pinch together. "Yeah i know?"

Jonghyun takes a long breath. "Do you want to come over?"

"Now? I can't. It's gonna be too late when I get back and if I wake Ji Hee up I'll never hear the end of it really." Kibum's chuckle trails off when Jonghyun's gaze doesn't falter and his grip on his wrist doesn't loosen. "Jjong?"

"I meant. Stay with me tonight. Taeyeon isn't in."

Kibum feels all his breath leave his chest in a rush, and his voice when it comes back is wavering and weak. "What?"

"Not like _that_ , well I mean if it happens i wouldn't be averse but we don't have to plan to do that. Just I want you in my bed you know? I miss sleeping next to you."

It's been eight months since they restarted. Two years since Jonghyun left.

"Are you sure? You said-" _take it slow, give me time._

"I am. Come home with me." Jonghyun's smile is slow and beautiful and Kibum wants to fall headfirst into it.

"Okay."

⁂

"I slept on your side of the bed for three months after you left," Kibum confesses later.

"Did you?" Jonghyun curls an arm around Kibum and draws him close.

"Yeah I missed your smell," Kibum says, with a tiny laugh.

"I missed yours too," Jonghyun whispers. He cups his hand around Kibum's cheek and leans in close to kiss him. When he pulls away, Kibum starts laughing, breathless and dizzy.

"Bum?" there's confusion in Jonghyun's expression but also a tenderness Kibum wishes he could hold.

"I just never thought we could be like this again," Kibum says. There's an edge of tears behind his laughter.

Jonghyun smiles, tracing his thumb gently over Kibum's mouth. "I love you," he whispers. "I love you."

Kibum slides his hands up Jonghyun's back, presses closer and kisses him hard and Jonghyun kisses him back, coaxing his mouth open with his tongue.

They let the tenderness flare into something closer to desire. Jonghyun's fingers find the edge of Kibum's shirt and his fingers trace the bare skin underneath, thumb running over Kibum's hipbone. Kibum shivers suddenly, not from cold.

"Can i?" Jonghyun whispers, his mouth close to Kibum's ear.

"Yes. _Yes_."

When they come together, skin to skin, it's like coming home; the taste of Jonghyun's skin, the touch of his fingers and tongue, the broken sounds falling from his mouth. "Mine," Kibum mouths into Jonghyun's skin, tracing a path down his body.

Jonghyun's answer is a drawn out cry.

⁂

"That went well," Jonghyun says later, drowsy and sated.

Kibum hums, his fingers playing with Jonghyun's hair. "Thanks for the feedback," he quips. "Will we be getting a second round?"

Jonghyun laughs. His hand lazily moves down Kibum's side. "Tomorrow is saturday," he remarks. "And I have no plans."

Kibum grins. "Neither do I."

When Jonghyun rolls them over, he's laughing.

* * *

**bond**

Sometimes the red string thrums at night, like a guitar string being plucked by an invisible finger. Jonghyun often sends a text to Taeyeon when that happens, just to see if she's okay. Most of the time, it means nothing, just a moment of particularly strong emotion.

Sometimes she'll ask him to call her and he would slip quietly out of bed and sit in the living room and listen as she talks. Sometimes Kibum joins him too, curls up quietly next to him and runs gentle fingers through his hair.

Sometimes Jonghyun wonders if it bothers Kibum, that his life is still so intertwined with the girl on the other end of his string, that he still can call her one of those he loves. Sometimes he wonders if Kibum wants Minho like that, if Kibum's string ever moves and what he does about it, wonders if Minho has ever tried reaching out again. Wonders how Kibum would feel if that did happen. Wonders how he himself would.

Kibum laughs when he asks. "The world is a big place," he says softly, "And my spot no longer includes him. It's not like you and Taeyeon, it's never been. To properly love you I gave him up, and it wasn't that much of a loss at all." He leans in to press a kiss to Jonghyun's hair. "You love her, I never loved him. And there's too much fracture between us to even try now I think."

"Do you regret that?" Jonghyun's question is a surprise even to himself.

Kibum pauses. "Regret losing touch with him?"

"Yeah."

"No. He's- was a good friend I think but you can't really stay friends with someone who keeps trying to mutate you into someone else. And now, I don't think we can ever go back."

"Oh."

Kibum reaches out to tug Jonghyun closer. "Why the questions?"

"Just imagining a different world." _one where you and I followed our threads and loved who we were destined for._

"Well I like this one."

Jonghyun smiles. "Me too." He leans his head against Kibum's shoulder and closes his eyes.

* * *

**twilight**

Kibum likes the twilight days best. When it's quiet and slow and nothing's happening, not even the music that is usually always playing in the background. When they don't talk to each other for hours on end, just lean against each other, maybe reading a book, or idly scrolling social media, maybe just breathing.

One time Jonghyun falls asleep, gently nodding off and falling into Kibum's shoulder. Kibum laughs and closes his book and puts it to the side, resettles Jonghyun's head into his lap and spends slightly too long just tracing light fingers over his features. When Jonghyun wakes up, Kibum's watching a comedy on the television, one hand tangled in Jonghyun's blonde hair.

"What time's it?" he mutters, voice hoarse.

"Not that late," Kibum whispers, smiling at him. Jonghyun makes a move to get up and Kibum gently pushes him back down. "Sleep, you've worked late every night this week."

Jonghyun smiles and turns to nuzzle closer into Kibum. "Love you," he whispers. His eyes are closing again.

"You're my favourite," Kibum replies, soft, fingers resuming the rhythmic stroking of Jonghyun's hair. _Always._


End file.
